


Sleep (Or a Lack Thereof)

by koalawhisperer



Series: Jimlock Fluff [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Sherlock would be lost without his Jim, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 11:12:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2545451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalawhisperer/pseuds/koalawhisperer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Sherlock waking up in the middle of the night, and he can't get back to sleep. He doesn't want to wake Jim, but he does watch his sleeping face and touch his hair and think about how lost he would have been without Jim. ~Jimlock anon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep (Or a Lack Thereof)

Many good things had happened since Sherlock had begun cohabiting with Jim. Both men ate on a regular basis – well, Jim's threats had changed Sherlock's habits after a while. It hadn't been easy, getting the stubborn detective to change, but enough nights spent sleeping on the sofa instead of with Jim and enough experiments trashed got the message across. Sherlock now ate on a fairly regular basis, and it had definitely improved his moods. He was less irritable, more easygoing, and happier in general. He was also more productive on his cases, solving them much more quickly than he had back when he refused to eat because he'd felt that digestion slowed the mind. Quite the contrary; the extra fuel gave him the energy he needed to be his most efficent. It was enough to make him wonder why he hadn't done it sooner.

Sherlock also slept on a regular basis. It wasn't nearly as boring as he'd thought it was in the past. No, sleeping with Jim by his side was quite possibly one of the most wonderful things Sherlock had ever experienced. He got to see his partner fall asleep, watch the cares of the world seem to melt off the Irishman's face and take away every bit of evidence that the man was London's most dangerous and wanted criminal. It made Jim look absolutely gorgeous, even more so than he did while he was awake. Sherlock would often wake up early in the morning and just study Jim, study the way the man's chest rose and fell as he slept, the peaceful expression on his face, the way his hair became tousled as he moved around to get comfortable. Jim was one of Sherlock's favourite subjects to study, one he would never grow bored of, no matter how much time he spent observing the man. Jim was fascinating, a streak of lightning in a world of dull darkness, yet at the same time something etched permanently onto Sherlock's life. A constant presence in his mind palace; in fact, Sherlock had developed an entire wing solely to Jim.

One night found the couple asleep in bed, Jim practically wrapped around Sherlock's body as their limbs tangled together to the point where it was hard to tell where Jim began and Sherlock ended. Both men slept soundly and peacefully, one of them occasionally shifting on the mattress or letting out a soft sound as they slumbered. Both men, being warm-natured, had tossed the covers aside, opting for natural body heat. It was a picture that no-one who knew either of them would expect to see, but that was made it even sweeter for the two of them. Both of them loved keeping people on their toes and doing the unexpected, after all. So there they were, two men that the world swore hated each other and wanted the other dead, curled up together in deep slumber. Oh, how wrong the rest of the world was, and oh, how these two were pulling the wool over everyone else's eyes. Sherlock and Jim needed each other, for without the other, the only alternative was boredom, a fate both of them thought worse than death.

Sherlock blinked himself awake as Jim shifted in his sleep, the smaller man opting to untangle himself and curl up against Sherlock's side. Bleary-eyed, the detective turned his head ever-so-slightly to see what time it was. He squinted as he glanced at the dimly lit clock on his side of the bed. 2:30 in the morning. This often happened; Sherlock would wake in the middle of the night after a few hours of sleep and be unable to go back to sleep for one reason or another, usually an overactive mind courtesy of the latest case or an experiment he was conducting. Tonight seemed to be no exception. Sherlock tried everything he knew to get himself back to sleep, from counting sheep (dull, why would sheep help anyone get back to sleep?) to visualizing relaxing scenarios and everything in between. 2:30 became 3, which became 3:30, and so on. Normally, Sherlock would get up and go into the sitting room, but he couldn't tonight, not with Jim curled so closely to him and sleeping so peacefully.

So Sherlock opted to do his favourite thing –- study Jim. A small smile crossed the detective's face as he reached over and carefully stroked Jim's raven-coloured hair, the soft texture feeling quite soothing beneath his fingertips. Oh, if only Sherlock could somehow tap into Jim's mind, to get inside the man's head and see what he was dreaming. Given how brilliant Jim was, how vibrant he was when he was awake, it was bound to be colourful. Complex, complicated threads of dreams woven together in an impeccable sort of way to create an elaborate tapestry that even the most talented seamstress or artist wouldn't be able to recreate with the most luxurious threads. That was Jim in a nutshell, really. Brilliant, vibrant, colourful, complex. And Sherlock, well, Sherlock loved every single facet. From the light to the dark, Sherlock was completely enamoured with Jim, and that wasn't going to change any time soon.

He heaved a soft sigh as he ran a feather-light touch down Jim's soft cheek, his mind suddenly flooded with thoughts that in turn made a rush of gratefulness spread over the detective's heart. Without Jim, Sherlock would be nothing. He knew that. Without Jim, Sherlock would be in some drug den, strung out of his mind, constantly searching for his next hit with no salvation in sight. Without Jim, Sherlock would be lost. He would be a waste of space, just another no-good junkie that no-one would miss should he die of overdose. God. It was a frightening thought, placing his well-being and happiness in someone else's hands, but it had ended up that way when Jim had first come on to Sherlock's radar with the Carl Powers case, and it had only intensified as they'd gotten older. Now that they were lovers, well, Jim held Sherlock's heart in his hands. Instead of burning it out of him, Jim had carefully taken Sherlock's heart from him, and so far, he'd treated it like a precious treasure, like something made of fragile glass or precious gemstones instead of something that needed to be destroyed.

But...well, that wasn't surprising now. Sherlock had quickly learned that he felt safe with Jim. That was a bit laughable, given the fact that Jim was the most dangerous man in England, if not all of Europe, but it was the truth. Sherlock knew that Jim respected him far too much to ever hurt him and that, should someone hurt him and Jim find out, the offender would be dead in a heartbeat, perhaps made into shoes. Being Jim's lover came with a sense of utmost safety, and for that, Sherlock was grateful. Sherlock was grateful for Jim in many ways, he'd learned. Jim made Sherlock feel wanted both mentally and physically, mentally with the constant stream of fascinating cases and interest in Sherlock's many experiments, and physically by taking care of the detective. Yes, their sex life was incredible, nothing short of mind-blowing, but that wasn't the only way Jim took care of Sherlock. If Sherlock got sick, Jim got him the best care possible. Jim made sure that Sherlock took care of himself by eating and sleeping properly, and Jim tended to Sherlock's injuries (the criminal often tended to his employees to avoid using public hospitals). Jim took the best possible care of Sherlock, and for that, he was eternally grateful. It was incredible, Sherlock had the best thing he'd ever had in his life fast asleep right next to him, and that just happened to be the man he'd once considered his enemy. Oh, how things had changed, and for the better.

Sherlock studied Jim for the longest time as the man slept, a soft, loving expression on his face as he stroked his hair and thought about how different his life would be had he never met Jim. It certainly wouldn't be this good, nor would he be this happy. Sherlock was happy, Jim was happy, and everything was absolutely perfect. It was something that he'd never imagined happening. He was The Freak, he was supposed to be alone. Alone protected him. No. Not anymore. Jim protected him now. With a soft sigh and an equally soft yawn as sleep finally beckoned again, Sherlock leaned in and carefully, gently placed a soft kiss to Jim's forehead before shifting down and resting his head atop Jim's strong chest, the steady heartbeat lulling him back into a deep sleep. Oh, how wrong he had been when he'd turned his nose up at sentiment and deemed it as a weakness. Without this, without the sentiment that he felt for the man beneath him, Sherlock would be weaker. Jim made him stronger, made him happier, and that was all Sherlock could ask for.


End file.
